


Soldier of ̶F̶o̶r̶t̶u̶n̶e̶ Fate

by docmatoi



Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Dreen-Gift, Europa (Girl Genius), Gen, I named Moloch's brothers and you can't do anything about it, Von Zinzer Brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2019-10-25 06:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17719970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/docmatoi/pseuds/docmatoi
Summary: "The Dreen-Gifts are known for their powers of precognition and invulnerability. They do their work and gain these powers at the mercy of the mysterious Dreen, and are beholden to bizarre limitations on their actions in pursuit of their goals. What is not known is what happens when these capabilities are insufficient for their needs. Can a Dreen-Gift ask their benefactors for help? Do they have any allies beyond those they make themselves?"-On the Dreen-Gifts, Wulfenbach State Press, 18XX"They do, and his name is Robert."-Temporally obscured note in the margins, written by an unnamed Dreen-Gift





	1. Crossing Over

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Gift of the Dreen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16448273) by [phoenixyfriend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixyfriend/pseuds/phoenixyfriend). 



> Before you read this, I highly suggest you read  
> https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DreenGift/works/16448273  
> The Gift of The Dreen, by phoenixyfriend. It will give you important information that isn't quite conveyed in this story. 
> 
> Also, it's really good.

**_“_ ** _Listen, Boss. If you want anything to come of me being here, I’m gonna need an escape plan, right about now!”_

**“ _Yͬ͛̇OU̓ͣ̃́̏̊ ̆ͤ͏MÂ͒ͮͮ̈͟Y͒͐͊.̒̈͗ͩ ̛̒̒F̨̃̂ͦ̐ͥͪE͛͆ͦͩ̒͆͐E͆̊L͟ ̓ͦ͘A̢͗̀ ̑̌S͂́ͦ̔͐̈̆L̐̀̏ͫ̂ͥ̚͢IG̀̎͞H͐ͩ̎ͥ̕T̂͗͌ͮ ̿̈͊͑̿PIN͒͂͒͛̊̌͞C͞H̓ͧ̚._** **_”_ **

Right after he finished his muttered plea to the Dreen he hoped was listening, Robert Von Zinzer felt a twinge across his back, and then a wave of pressure passed through the walking gunboat _Vienna 707._ He and his eight adoptive brothers had been moving away from the wreckage of the late Graf Ornstein-on-Marschwig at all possible speed. His vassals did not put aside their squabbles for much, but “catch and execute the common soldiers who accidentally killed him,” seemed like something that would rate.

One moment they were making their way down the Rhine Valley, the next they were picking their way across a mountain path. No one but Robert noticed, all too busy arguing about whose fault the Graf’s untimely demise was.

“You can’t shoot worth-”  
“He was asking for it anyway-”  
”I’m telling you he jumped in front of-”  
“Guys-”

“It was fate, I say-”  
“I blame Moloch, he always gets us hired by crazies-  
“I do NOT!”  
“Guys-”

“Death to nobles anyway, he had it coming-”  
“Oh give it a REST, would you-  
“GUYS! We’re lost again!”

_That_ got everyone’s attention. Everyone immediately looked out the nearest viewport, noting the change in scenery with a simultaneous groan. “Someone wake Mam’ up. Dammit, not again…” Esther groused.

“Well, Ess, look on the bright side,” Gehenna supplied. “There’s no way Ornstein’s men can find us if we can’t even find ourselves!”

“And that wouldn’t even be something we need to _worry_ about if you could just shoot straight for once in your life!”

“Omar, I’ve never done anything straight in my life and you know it!”

Robert left the bickering behind to both wake up Mammon and try to figure out where they wound up this time. Clambering down the ladder into the pilot’s compartment, he swayed with the rhythm of the legs over to the only Von Zinzer brother who could reliably drive the remarkably finicky gunboat. “Mammon.” A shake to the shoulder. “Mammon, wake up!”

And he did, with a start. “Did it work? Did Vienna save us?”

_No, it was me._ “Uhhh. Yeah, and now we're…well, lost.”

**“** Haha! I knew she would! Oh, you're just the best, sweetie, yes you are…” Mammon had been like this for a while. The gunboat had been their back pay from a lord south of Paris. They had taken her to a Spark with a reputation for “interesting work with vehicles” to get repairs done after they left Duke Hofmeister's service rather explosively. The 9 Von Zinzer brothers had collectively failed to consider the implications of the word “ _interesting_.” Nobody had wanted to think too hard about what exactly the Spark had done, except Mammon. Mammon had… probably thought _too_ hard about it.

“So, do you have any idea where we’ve wound up?”

Mammon hummed in response, looking out the viewport. “Not a clue, I’m afraid. We can’t have gone far, though. I wasn’t out _that_ long.”

“Right. We’re probably near Mainz, with how long we’ve been walking.” Immediately after Robert said that, they rounded a corner on the road and beheld a sign. In Romanian.

**‘Bucharest, 5 leagues.’**

“Well… Fuck.”

* * *

 

Leaving Mammon behind to crow about how amazing his sweetie was, Robert took a moment to breathe. Ok, so whatever the Boss in the Big Hat had done, it had sent them a few hundred miles east. Ok, we can work with this. Step 1: Blame The Boat.

“Ok, guys. I’ve got good news and bad news.” Lead off with a classic. Certainly beats the Farnsworth Method.

“If the good news isn’t ‘I found some glasses for Gehenna and some hooch for Moloch,’ I don’t wanna hear it.” Moloch groused in response.

“Well, cover your ears, then, grouchy.” Moloch made a big show of obliging, the drama queen. “The good news is, the boat did something weird, and there’s no way Graf Ornstein’s men can catch up to us.” Robert cut off the relieved chatter that started building among the 6 brothers who were still listening with “The bad news is that it’s because we’re in Romania.”

Everyone (except Moloch, who still had his ears covered) groaned.

"But I can't speak Romanian!"  
“Great, Wulfenbach territory.”  
“Wastelands are wastelands, east and west.”  
“10 guilders says we’ll run into some Heterodyne bullshit?”  
“Sucker bet.”

_God,_ his brothers were pessimists. They didn’t even know Vienna 707 was doomed by Author Fiat, and they were _still_ a pack of doomsayers. One of these days these guys were going to wind up in the worst possible situation, and they’d _finally_ have the appropriate amount of complaining.

“Think positive, guys! It can’t be hard to find work out here. Like Bruno said, Wasteland is Wasteland. Everyone needs someone who can fight!”

**BOOM** **  
****RATATATAT  
****KCHUNK KCHUNK**

_Great, I jinxed it._

Mammon’s voice came bellowing out from the cockpit, “CONTACT! CONTACT! GO TO BATTLE STATIONS!” sending everyone running for the gun posts.

* * *

 

_Part of the late Duke Hofmeister’s attempt at a standardized New Model Army, the Barry-class Walking Gunboat comes armed with 4 wide arc turrets, with a basic armament of 4 low-velocity cannons, able to load variable ammunition and cover adjacent fields of fire. Proper crew complement is 2 drivers, 4 gunners, and 4 loaders. Like most machines built on the bipedal walker format, it features superheavy armor on the bottom hull, so as to prevent gut shots from being a one hit kill._

_What sets the Barry class (and the other machines Hofmeister designed) apart from every other sparkwork walker is its simplicity of design, allowing for a great degree of repairs by non-spark crews. Barring extreme damage, and given roughly similar parts, a crew familiar with the machine can maintain a Barry class for decades. This fact, along with the number made, were contributing factors to the Coalition of Nice, a cabal of local Sparky warlords who didn’t like Hofmeister’s attitude. Hofmeister’s New Model Army did excellent work, taking the Coalition’s six equivalent-sized armies with it as its death rattle. Unfortunately, its destruction left the various ahead-of-their-time warmachines either destroyed or scattered around Europa in the hands of routed soldiery._


	2. No Good Deed...

_“The von Zinzer brothers never wanted to be mercenaries. But when they left the farm to join the ill-fated Duke Hofmeister's army, they found themselves with a walker to maintain, eight mouths to feed, no orders, and no superior officers to pay them. Now they're wandering Europa, looking for their next meal, and hoping they don't disappoint Ma_ **_too_ ** _much. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can feed them, maybe you can call on- Vienna 707!”_

_-”Vienna 707” (2016), Season 2 DVD case-back blurb_

 

It was some kind of ancient clank, already embroiled in battle with a small land caravan. As calls went out from each of the gunners to load a certain kind of ammunition, Robert watched the battle through his sights. The wagons were unmarked, but dodged strikes with an agility that suggested sparkwork implemented in their construction. The clank itself looked partially dismantled- scavenging job gone wrong? Or was it already damaged when they found it?

* * *

 

Hailey Danasdottir was very scared. The Dreen had told her that all she needed to do was make sure the caravan survived the trip to Mechanicsburg, the setting of her favorite detective novels, and she could have a new mother, and make everything better for _everyone_ . She had _told_ them scavenging materials from old machines was dangerous, especially if you don’t know what they do! But they hadn’t listened! Miss Dana was the only one who ever listened, and no one had listened to _her_ either! Everyone just brushed Hailey off as the silly girl with the made-up songs that _weren’t_ made-up, darnit, they were just from a Different Place!

No one had listened, and now they had to fight a giant clank! What was she supposed to do about that?

“Nothing we have is getting through!” yelled Marcus, the leader of the salvaging crew. “We have to run!”  
“Scatter! It can’t chase _all_ of us!”  
“It’ll be the end of the operation!”  
“I know! It’s been an honor knowing you all!”

_No no no nonononononono please no you need to stay together if you don’t- if you don’t I’ll- NO!!!_

**Y̨҉ơ͜ų̸.̡̨͢ ͜H̷͢a҉v͡͠e ̵͞F̴͞a̧̨͘i͢l̷͘͜e͝d̨.̷͝**

The nails-on-a-chalkboard voice came from nowhere and everywhere. She would recognize it anywhere, the same just-barely-not-malicious contempt from when she was Taken. Time slowed to half speed as she turned to see the Dreen, materializing from nothing.

**Y͡o͏̵u̶͘ ̷know̡͘̕. ̢͜T̸̵͝he͟ ̨P̛̕u̴͞n̴is̶h҉̛m̷̷e̢҉̷n҉t̵͡.̛͡ ͘͝F͢o͝r̛͡ F͡a̷͡i̶͘l̴̡u̴r̷̨͡ę̡.**

_No no no no_  “Please, no, I couldn’t do anything about this! How was I supposed to fight that thing?” Was it fear or the Punishment that locked her into stillness? She couldn’t tell.

**N̴͡o҉̨t̸͘̕.̢̕ ̷͘̕M̸̶y̵̛.̧͜ ̢Pro̕͘͞b̸l̵͞e͡m̛.̵**

Hailey’s toes began to stiffen ever-so-slowly. She could _feel_ it, the creeping paralysis that the Dreen tormented her with when she didn't get things right. The Dreen went silent, to watch her Statue in loneliness.

_Please no no no no no I don't want to be stuck like this I don't want to watch the world go by there has to be something please please please someone anyone-_

And as she thought that final plea, she felt something else. A twinge across her back, and a soft voice, buzzing in her head like a honeybee’s nest.

.

**_N̝͙͎ǒ͎͖͔̟̝̏ẗ̒ͅ ͖̪͓ͭ̔͛̌̐̈̽t͔̱͐ͫ͋o͖̦̣ͬ̉͌ͥ ̪̺͙̱͌̀̅̿̆̎̆ͅw̤̋ͧ̐ͣ̒̒͂o̫̫̘̙̥̭̯͛̂͌̐r͇̼͔̳̱͓ͥ̾͒̂̂̚ṛ̫̱̙͎͕y͎͑ͣ͌̇̋͐,͙̻̏̏̎̾̚ ̤͕͙̖̠̭̉ͅy̦̲̤̱̟o̪̼̫̽̄̎̎͗̌̃ȕ̎͂͂ǹ̟̝͎̜̞̰͉ͯ̍͒g̝͍̭ͪͫͯ̎̿ͩ ̪͇͉̞͈͚̫̇̿͐ͣo͍̬̭͇̱̎̓n̬̟̻̅e̜̍ͧͧ.̦͖͎̙_ **

 

And that was when the military gunboat came over the ridge.

* * *

 Robert looked through his sights, trying to adjust with the swaying of the walker. That was the flaw of this design, really- unless you had two pilots able to balance each other out, any movement set the sights swinging everywhere. And Mammon was the only one of them who could pilot well. Omar said Gehenna couldn't shoot straight, but really it was a miracle that they went so long without fragging their own side. The enemy clank finally noticed them, and immediately directed it's attention to the greater threat. Mammon, with his uncanny skill, juked to the right to dodge a swing from a hammer-arm, and Robert's post swayed with the movement to see-

A girl, no older than 13. She seemed frozen in fear, but Robert's teeth itched just to look at her. He could see her eyes, staring at something that wasn't there, her hands making pleading motions to something that- something that-

Something that _wasn'tc̷ou̶l͢d̨n't̢ş͘͘h̴͘ou̷͟l̴̸ḑ͡n'҉͠t҉̡ r͠͝͠e̶̸̢̛f͏̴̧u̵̷̴͢s̵̢̧ȩ̵͜d̷͢ ̴t̴̕͘͟͞ơ̧_ be perceived.

_A Dreen? Here? But then she-_

The fear in her eyes and her pleading stance clicked through the headache the Dreen was giving him, and he realized what she must be. What must have been about to happen. Maybe already happening.

Not on his watch. He'd only seen one Statue in his time as a Dreen-Gift, and he could still remember the loss, the pleading, the _eyes_ \- he wouldn't inflict that on his worst enemy. Let alone a kid, let alone while he could do something about it.

So. Whatever her personal timeline was, whatever her mission, it was pretty obviously disrupted by the current fight. Good thing he brought a cannon to a clank fight. He swayed his sights with the next lurch, and took aim. “Load hard-tip!”

* * *

 She couldn't see the gunboat from her position, but the military-grade weapons it was armed with were definitely more effective than the gear the scavengers carried. The resounding _Thoom_ it made every time it fired was evidence enough for that. The Dreen made an unpleasant noise that hurt her eyes, and when it spoke, its voice lacked the contempt it usually held for her. Instead, it felt _angry_.

**S̡̨͡o̢͝͞͡m̡e͘͡o̵̕͞n̵̸e̵̕͞.͝҉̷̧ ̶̕Me̶͢ḑ͞҉͘͠d̡̢̧̨l̛͢e̴̛s͘͝.̴͟͢ ̴̸͘Y̸̴̧o̕͘͟u͘͏ ͘҉m̷u͝͞st ̷̸̡̡c͝͏̨͘͡o͝u͜҉͡n͘͞t ̸̶̛͢͢t̶̢̡͟h͝y͘͝͠ ̸͟b͞l̵̨e̕s̶̡̡s̕͘͜į̷͟͝n͘g̶̡̨̕s̕͢.̶̶̨͜͞ ̨͠Y̶͘͝͏o̴͠͞u͟͢҉͢r̷͡͞ ͢͏̕f͡ą̷̧̕i͠l̕͜͜͏̢u̸҉̶͘r̷̕͞e͜͠.̶̴̡̛͜ ̴̴͘͡H̴̴a̢͟s̸͜ ͜͜͞b̵͡e̛e̶̡͢͜n̷̛ ͞҉̷͞Ưn̷̨͏d̕͜͡o̵̵̡͞҉nę̶.͏̶̕̕̕**

She felt her legs unfreeze, and she turned around to see-

* * *

 

The shell, tipped with low-carbon steel to aid in penetration, passed through the dented armor covering the clank's chest and out the other side. Some vital motive element came with it, and as it collapsed, the light behind its eyes dimmed and darkened. A cheer rose from the defenders, and Robert relaxed, taking his eye away from the gunsights and his hand off the trigger. “I think that’s the end of it!” He called out. “No movement, confirm?”

Despite their tendency to bicker at the drop of a hat, the von Zinzer brothers _were_ a group of professional soldiers. Temeluchus responded with a simple “Kill confirmed. Nice shot.”

Robert looked through the scope again, catching sight of his fellow Dreen Gift getting a hug from an older woman. He sighed in relief, before replying, "Thanks. You think we should go down and talk to them?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we? Maybe there’ll be some grateful ladies eager to thank their rescuers, hehe.”

“Yeah!” Omar chimed in. “Maybe they’ll feed us, too!”

“I don’t know…” Robert was kind of worried. How much capital had he burned with his Dreen, asking for an escape plan? Was his being here a threat to the timeline?

**A̕N̶͢͜ ̵͢͝AS̴T̸͘͟U̸̴T̨E̢ ͟Q̷̧͡U̷E͠S̛͘T̵̨I̷͘O̸͞N.͏̸**

Oh, that wasn’t a good sign.

* * *

 

 _Those of the Dreen Gift are reluctant to speak on their benefactors, when they can speak of them at all. The Lady Timothea, in her famous Prophecy to Andronicus Valois, would only call them “A power greater than a Storm King.” Jason Valentine, companion to the Heterodyne Boys, would make a sign of protection when they were named. Nathalie Charbonneau, advisor to the Middle Kingdom, spits at their mention and uses several as-yet unidentified words to refer to them. The Dreen in the employ of the Wulfenbach Empire similarly refuse to answer questions about the Dreen Gifts themselves, leaving the relationship between the two almost entirely mysterious.  
-" _A History of Dreen-Gifts", Inna Maximenko, 187X


	3. ...Goes Unpunished

   The Nezperdian being had appeared without any warning, occupying all of their sight and overflowing into their vestibular senses. Even if he closed his eyes, Esther could see it, like the illusion of a hand in front of your face in pitch darkness. It _existed_ in the center of the gun deck, and he could tell that it's attention was focused upon Robert, who stared at it with eyes unblinking. How did he withstand the pain that it was to look upon? The sound it made as Robert looked at it made Esther's skin crawl. 

“ **✡︎□︎◆︎ ♋︎❒︎♏︎ □︎◆︎⧫︎⬧︎** **♓︎♎︎♏︎ □︎♐︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎❒︎ ⬥︎□︎❒︎🙵** **♋︎❒︎♏︎♋︎📬︎”**

   If Esther listened closely, he could pick out… not words but _intent_ , as if the voice was partly translating itself in his mind. Whatever this thing was, it was _angry_ , at... Robert specifically? Whatever it was saying, Robert could clearly understand it, judging by his expression as it continued,

**“ ✡︎□︎◆︎ ♒︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ ♓︎■︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎♐︎♏︎❒︎♏︎♎︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ♋︎ ⧫︎♓︎❍︎♏︎●︎♓︎■︎♏︎ ♏︎⌧︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎■︎♋︎●︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎❒︎ □︎⬥︎■︎ ❒︎♏︎⬧︎◻︎□︎■︎⬧︎♓︎♌︎♓︎●︎♓︎⧫︎⍓︎📬︎”**

   At that Robert's expression, previously anxious, turned mutinous. “What do you mean, “Interfered?” All I did was fix your mess!” Now, Esther thought he was a pretty brave fellow, but he could never shout back at something this…. Weird, like Robert was doing. Where did his big brother get such nerves of steel?

* * *

   Robert was terrified out of his fucking mind. Here before him was one of the guardians of Time and probably a couple other dimensions he hadn’t heard of, pretty much chewing him a new asshole. And he’d shouted back! 

   The Dreen _hissed_ at his insolence, and waved an appendage it is convenient to call a hand. Robert felt himself start to slow, his fingers stiffen, watched his brothers panic as he froze into one of the grisly reminders wielded against the Dreen Gifts, a statue, forever seeing with eyes unblinking, mouth unmoving, but mind unceasing. Would his brothers keep him around? Or would he be left behind as dead weight, alone upon the wastes, until he went mad for loneliness?

* * *

  _B̫̖̙͖̼̙̈́̓u̞̯̣͎̮̔̒ͥt̠͍̭͒͂͊̉͆̅ ͙̦̦̭͒̓̇̌̒͌ť̼̅ͦh̭̟̦̻͉̣̑ͪa͖̜ͧͪ̎̉ͩt͕̻'̮ͭ́͛ͥ͊s̥̅͋͗̚ ͍͕̖̯̜̺̤͐̄n͈̝͓͙̟̋̀ͮ̆o̹̞̥̠̫͌̄̓̎̉̅ͫẗ̪̟̮̥͎̙́̽ ̪ẃ̲͎̮̺̮̼͖̃ͧ̈̉hͦ̄̈́a̼ͪt͎͔ͫ͑͋͋͊͆ͤͅ ̖͈̲̘̞̤͛͒h͈̩̺͔͓͉͔̄̌͑̍͐ͫa̪̯̮̤̫̤p̭̙̜͖̙͕͖p̮̙̾ȇ͈͔̱̗̀n̬̜̺e̫̣͎̒̓̉̽̔d͖̙͓̗̹͙̆̋̽ͬ͒̽.͗͒_

   He _didn’t_ freeze, he _didn’t_ become a lonesome memorial to a life unfinished. His limbs did _not_ lock up, his mouth _remained_ functional, and he _continued_ to live his life among the Brothers Von Zinzer! And Robert Von Zinzer watched as his limbs became pliant flesh, he returned to his brothers, and they continued on their way.

* * *

 

**B̶̨͠͏u̢͏̢t ̷̵͜͟͠t̵̕͜͝͝h̶̛̕͝҉a̸̧҉̸t̸̶̴͜'̸̛͜͟s̴͜͞͞ ̸̷̨n̴̢͢͠o̸̷͏̧t̴̴͞ ̸̨̕͝w̨̧̨h̛̕͡a͢͡t҉̷̧̧͏ ̢̧͝h̛̕͡a̛͜p̧͘͞p̸̸̵̛͞e̸̷̛͡n̴̛͢͞ȩ̷̷͡d̶̷̵̢͘.҉̢̕͘͡**

   He **did not** . He safeguarded the timeline by **҉͡ce̸a͏̵͡si͝ng̨̧ ̸t͜o͞ in͜҉t͟e̶̡r͏̵f̡e̛͘ŗe͘͟** and his ‘brothers’, those unimportant to The Project, were struck down mundanely. Their vessel rotted and fell to rust. “Moloch” and “Omar von Zinzer” would flee to the town called “Beetleburg”, seeking escape from the memory of their brothers, where they would encounter Agatha Heterodyne. And the Narrative would forget that there was ever a Robert Von Zinzer.

_B̞͘u̡t͍ ͏̜̖̲͍͚̝̗ṯ̼ͅh̙̰̗͇̲̮͟a̖̲͈t̹̯'̶̝̘̜s̶̘̮̝ ̣̻͔̬͜n̥͙͍͉̝̣̝o̷̘͍͎͙͕t͚ ̜͖̫̥̻wh̟̟͈a̼̼̩̬̥t̬̮̟ ͠h̶͕a̬̜̫ͅͅp̛̥̰̙̻̟ͅp̸͇e̘̯̰n̖͈̫̞̞e̞ḍ̬.̤_  
 _͈̗̗͎̺̫͟M̴̝̜̮͖̰̙ͅY̧͓͕̫ ͖͇͟J͜U̻̠̖̞RĮ̗̝̖̥̝͓͈S̠̟̕D̯̻̮I̼C̫̗̫T͏̙̺̝̜̘I̱̜̹̪O̬̬̻͖̩͖̱͞N!̮ͅ_  
 **Ḇ̨̲̳u̱̖̫̖̘̼ṭ̼ͅ ̢t͉̳͇ͅh͙̼̣͍̟̲͚a͔ṯ̤̜͈'̯̺̤͖̠̥̯͠s͕̳̺̤̟ n̥̙͈͚̝o̘̬͍̗t̠ ̗̯̱̠͝w̮̙̻̻̝͙̳h̶̝̞̜̤͓a̢ț̝̲̬ ̤̠̗̙͕h̢ͅa̟̮̼͕̭͉͓p͚͍͇̟͎̬p͖͕̠̝͢e̴̩̫n̡͚͎̮̺̤e͓͚̘̠ͅd͜.̪̱**  
 **͠M̶Y͎̞̤͈̞̰̱ ̢͖T̸̙̫IM͙E̺͓͜L̹̬̜I̸N̛͔̦͇͉̱̹Ḛ͢**  
 _͇̘̹̗͔B͢ut͏̪̪̟͍ ̨̙̤t̹h̛̳̘̘̦̙̹̼a̼̦t͉̹'̬̼̯̣̜̝̺s̰̬̖͎ ̖n͏͇̪̭͍͍̠o̕t͖ ̢̱̮̝w̸̯͍̜ͅh̠͇͈͓͙a͎̻̣̣t͎̘͢ ̹͙͎̻h͍̤̯̜a͕͝p̢̖̼͓̞̥p̜̺̗͈͟e̸n͓̣̤̝̗̯ḙ̪͖d̰̦͔̘͓.̭̱͈̱̲̬͟ͅ_  
 _͜A̩ͅḄ̱͙͓̼͕͔U̜͕͉S̳̟̮̜͜E̪͕R̷̞̯̭!̭̥͚_  
 **̦͘B̼̺̥͡u̶̻͈̫̻͔t͎̩̱͓̘ ̰̙̳̰th̼̠̰̦a̳̞̪̯t̵͙̥̗̲̫'̹̯͖̕ṣ̷̯̬ no҉̼t ͏w͍͢ḩ̬̞a̡̪t͔̥̥̖̼ ͏͕͍̣͈̫̞ẖ̯̱̘ͅa̧̤̪̮p̯̤͎̤͖p҉̹͔͖̫̠̹e̬n҉͚̝e̵͍̰̜̣d̢̰̪̩̣̲ͅ.͏̫͎̱̥͈͈̬**  
 **̸͇̙̖̫͉ȘO͕̖͖F͚̻̱̺̳͘Ṭ ͉͇͙̗͕̺Ḫ̯̟̺̝͠E̵̠͎͓̖̜A̖͚͕R͓T̼͎̦͖̹̲!̩̭̬̻͘**  
͉̖ _B̰͖̯̙̝̞͞u̩͖͈t̜̞̻̝͇͎͍ ̙̘̤̹͓̕th̜͎a̰̣̙͕͍͖t͈̮͢ͅ'҉̺̯̯͙̟̰͓s͏͎͚̙ n̡o̭̺̹̳t͝ ͓̭͇̤͖̖͟w̬͎̫̤̗̩̕ͅh̫͇̞̻͓a̺̘̠t̯͇ ͘ḩ̦͎̤͚a̛̱̻̭p̞͖͇̞͔̤p̳̺̪̗̹̝en̠͓̙͕̺̖e̫̼d̻͉͖.͙͓̤͚̞̯ͅ_  
 **Ḅ̩̥̣u̪̝̗̙͇t͎̮͈̘̖̯̰ ̜̤͙̗̙͢t̢̮h̻̹̰a̴̗̺t͏͍͖'҉̞̝̣͇ş̜̻̖̻͉͕͚ ̺͈̼̠͈͝n͏o̭t̳̣͢ ̭̩̲͖͎̤̯w̻̼͓̪̗h̳͕a͖̥̱̳̙͘ṯ̵͎̫̞ ҉̜͍̪̣̬h͇̱̤̺̤a̭̬p̝̼̹̣p̧͍̻̗̱ę̜̖̻͖n̘̹ȩ͍̮̥̦̣ͅͅd̖.͔̜̙̣͇̘̬**  
 _̡̠͍̥͈͔B̛u̶͎̘̭̝̥͕t̼̩̞̱̪͞ ̶th̥͍̜a̦̫t̫͘'͎͠s̤̱.̺̯̩͡ ̵̥̳̹͖N̸͎̝͕̜o̝̣͚͈͇̺͟t͕.̲̱̼̩̖͢ W̺̖̪̬͔͕h͇͓͇a̮̘ͅt.̤ ̕H̡a͕͇̝̹͡p͝p̙͈̞e̲̗̜̲̝̺͖͘n̖͇̙e̜ͅd̡͇̰̜͈!̢̼͓̥͉̯̹̳_

* * *

 Robert saw and saw and saw until he saw nothing, and then he was face first upon the deck plates. Bile rose to his lips. One second had passed since the Dreen raised its hand.

There was another Dreen now.

* * *

  There was another one now. Somewhere in the eternities between the monster raising its arm, and Robert falling to the floor, it had silently appeared in front of him. And as Robert became reacquainted with his breakfast, the spell was broken, and Esther rushed to his side.

Pressing a hand to Robert’s back, Esther was only vaguely aware of the other brothers futilely charging the two monsters, because Robert immediately latched on to him like a sailor adrift grabs onto flotsam, gasping.

“Whoa! Hey, hey, I have you. You’re okay.” Robert looked… weird. Like he was behind fogged glass, and that glass was splintering. “You’re okay, you’re okay, take it easy.” As he rubbed his brother’s back, the splintering seemed to slow down, and Robert came back into focus. Eyes dilated, hyperventilation, vomiting… shell shock. Esther took off his too-big coat and wrapped it around Robert’s body as well as he could and just made soothing noises.

* * *

_“What, Glitching? It’s… well, it ain’t fun, to be sure. Kinda like getting hit with electricity, without the burns. Everything shakes, and you can’t stop it, because you’re no longer in control. When it’s real bad things start phasing through you.”  
_ _-Jason Valentine_

_"It's not so bad if you do it on purpose, if they aren’t punishing you. There's a sense of still being there, like things are still real. Not a great way to spend your time, though."  
_ _-A. N., active Dreen Gift_

_"Vexatious pains, that keep me from my duty! Vexatious hands, that fall through my love! Accursed Dreen, that blessed and cursed me with my knowledge!"  
_ _-Timothea Turner, as presented in the opera “_ **_Storm of Time”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda don't like this but i gotta get it out there

**Author's Note:**

> As the Dreen-Gift concept took off, I thought about what I wanted to do with it. And I came up with this.


End file.
